


the world grieves

by princet_ro



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Deadinnit, Everyone Has Issues, Gen, Memory Loss, dream apologists idm having u here but be warned dream isnt the good guy here, i cant be bothered to tag all the char angst but nobody is having a good time, no beta we die like tommy, ohooho i can tag it that now, that tag goes out to c!ranboo, the rpf fandom tag is only there bcz theres no dsmp tag, this isnt abt the content creators its abt the characters they play!! - Freeform, tommy got murked by a green teletubby w a god complex and a potato smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princet_ro/pseuds/princet_ro
Summary: When Tommy’s death message flickers across everyone’s communicators, the world grieves.
Relationships: Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, all /p, no romo - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	the world grieves

**Author's Note:**

> first dsmp fic pog?? anyway tws for blood, violence, death, manipulation, memory loss (also big spoiler warning)
> 
> if the ccs are uncomfy w this/their boundaries for fics change i will absolutely take this down!! in this household we respect ccs boundaries

When Tommy’s death message flickers across everyone’s communicators, the world grieves.

* * *

Ranboo doesn’t know much. What with his awful memory, he had a tendency to forget important information. Always kept slightly out of the loop because of rightful distrust, and as much as it hurts, he believes that people have his best interests at heart. So Ranboo is okay with not knowing much.

But he knows it isn’t supposed to be like this.

He stands in wait for a hard hat to fly off the scaffolding of the opposite hotel, but it will never come. He hears a shrieking laugh if he listens closely, but it doesn’t echo across the street to the point where he and Tubbo would be able to hear it over their own construction. It’s merely a memory, something that Ranboo has never understood.

He knows that one day, he’ll wake up and forget the angry screeching or the surprised cackles, and he doesn’t want that day to come.

He doesn’t want to forget Tommy. He doesn’t want to forget the kid who would always make half-joking slights at him and Tubbo but would still save them if the world was ending. He doesn’t want to forget the boy who had greeted him into the world by trying to prove that he wasn’t the youngest. He didn’t want to forget him.

He knows that he helped.

He wants to forget the TNT stacks that he had burned the second he found them. He wants to forget the lingering smell of gunpowder that had followed one of his blackouts. He wants to forget the green sticky note with the smile that sealed his fate. He wants to forget it all, forget that he’s to blame, no matter if Dre- _he_ (Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to say that name anymore) had been controlling him. He still helped.

But fate is cruel, so when one day Ranboo wakes up without the memories of a child with sapphire eyes that slowly dulled to the color of stormy seas, the ring of explosions still buzzing in his ears, he doesn’t know.

Ranboo doesn’t know who this child is, but he knows he helped. And he hates it.

* * *

Tommy wasn’t dead. Obviously. Tommy was right next to Tubbo all the time, because they were each other’s Tommy and Tubbo and they lived happily ever after no matter what life threw at them.

When the message buzzed on his communicator, he looked up at Tommy in surprise. “But you’re right here! The world must be glitching or something, it’ll be fine.”

When Sam came over to ‘console’ him, he had bounced up, ignoring the tears that had glazed over his eyes. “What do you mean? Tommy’s right here!”

The man had said nothing, a heartbroken look barely suppressed on his face. He was probably just sad because he had gone around for so long telling everyone that Tommy was dead, and now that he knew he wasn’t he had to go back and tell everyone he was alive! 

Tubbo was a little worried about Tommy though. His hands were always so cold, and the stains on his shirt and jaw were never cleaned. It was weird, but hey, his best friend could have his quirks. Tubbo was just glad he was still here!

Other people were starting to realize that Tommy was alive too! It had taken some persuading, but now when he would walk up to Ranboo and greet him, the Ender hybrid would greet him back and then turn to the left side of Tubbo (Tommy always stood on his left side!) and offer a small apology that his memory wasn’t great. The smile on his face was always a little sad, though.

Everyone else said hi too! Quackity would ruffle Tubbo’s hair and then look at Tommy (His gaze was always a little too far to the left, so he was never really _looking_ at Tommy, but it was fine!) and offer him a little grin. It never reached his eyes.

Sam would always give Tubbo two lollipops, one green and one red, and tell him to give one to Tommy. He didn’t know why he didn’t just give Tommy the lollipop himself, but that was okay! He remembered when Sam had tried and the lollipop had passed straight through his hand.

Everyone was always so nice to Tommy, and it was cool! He didn’t know why they hadn’t been like that before, but he supposed that back when things were bad nobody really cared about each other’s feelings, because they were too focused on trying to kill each other.

~~Exile.~~

~~Dream.~~

~~Death.~~

~~Your fault.~~

~~Not real.~~

~~Gone.~~

~~Your Tommy.~~

~~Compass.~~

~~Prison.~~

~~Gone.~~

~~Gone.~~

~~Gone.~~

~~:)~~

Of course Tommy isn’t gone! Everyone was just a little shaken up, that was all.

* * *

_Two sons down, one to go_.

It was a stupid sentence, one that came to him in the slump he was trapped in. He had laughed when he thought of it, and it had been the last time he remembered laughing.

Now it just hurt, because it was true.

First it had been Wilbur.

His bright boy, the one who never really had a penchant for fighting and had always been the one who liked singing. The poet of the family. He was always so full of life.

And now it’s all gone.

His son had been a kid full of joy, and then he saw him again, and he was an adult full of hate. He was fully grown, and Phil hadn’t been there. The final time he saw his son, he was a husk of a man, someone who barely remembered his own name. The final time he saw his son, he had torn down his pride and joy, ripped himself from the narrative. The final time he saw his son, he had run a sword through his torso upon his request.

The final time he saw his son hadn’t been when he pressed the button. That wasn’t his son.

The final time he saw his son had been when the light had drained from his eyes, blood spurting out of his mouth as he told tales of traitors and treason and _Techno._ The final time he saw his son had been his final trick, his final prank of sorts- detailing his plot when Phil was already too late to stop it. It was fitting in a way- Phil had been too late to stop his little bard from becoming warped and twisted, and he was too late to keep his eldest, his warrior, from a similar fate.

Techno hadn’t died, not really. But Phil had been too late to stop him from succumbing to the voices, from becoming hard and jagged instead of the precise but awkward, cold but warm boy that he had raised. 

And Tommy.

Tommy is gone.

And Philza was too late again.

Too late for what?

Too late to stop his son from being exiled, too late to stop Dream from manipulating him, too late to be the one that comforted him on that lonely Nether brick bridge, too late to get him out when the prison was in lockdown, too late to _rip Dream to shreds for daring to lay a hand on his boy._

Philza Minecraft was too late for all of his sons, but he won’t let Techno, Ranboo, Niki, Tubbo or Jack die. He’s already lost enough kids.

* * *

Techno is furious.

Techno wants to tear Dream apart bit by bit, to break him down the same way that he broke Tommy, to watch him suffer.

The voices demand blood, and Techno will, for once, be happy to oblige them.

But he can’t.

Techno doesn’t have the right to kill Dream, because he hurt Tommy too. Not on the same levels as the scumbag, but he didn’t have the right to be Tommy’s saviour when he was still at fault.

Tommy didn’t deserve to be hurt, but Dream was beneath Techno. Dream _wanted_ Techno to come and kill him, wanted to prove that he was still important because under all of those God complexes was a broken man who wanted a shred of reassurance that he was important, that he was worthy, and that he was better.

So Techno wouldn’t kill him. Techno will let him rot in his cell, unloved and unwanted, because Techno is more than him.

He will not taint Tommy’s memory with even more violence, and he will not let Dream be in the afterlife, because then he’ll be with Tommy again.

So Techno restrains himself, lets the voices rage and scream and chant, because as cold-hearted as he is, he will not let this child’s legacy be spoiled by the blood of a sad man who wished for control.

* * *

Quackity enjoys talking.

Filling up silence is always good, and if it has to be him talking about stuff that he doesn’t give a shit about either way, so be it.

When his communicator buzzes, he goes silent.

Tommy is gone.

Tommy is _gone._

Tommy is gone and Quackity is silent.

Quackity will stay silent.

The silence is suddenly so much better, because when he talks all he can hear is a faint ‘MI GUSTA’ or a kid screaming in faux-anger, and he doesn’t want to hear that. He doesn’t want to remember him.

So Quackity stays silent.

He does talk sometimes, because he still has to function and work and he can’t really scream out threats in the middle of a fight with wooden signs, can he?

But he’s silent the rest of the time. He doesn’t sing, because all of his songs remind him of those stupid fucking discs and that stupid fucking child that fucking _died_ on him, and he can’t- he can’t sing anymore.

Quackity has had a pickaxe put through his teeth before, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as when he catches himself idly humming Cat. The death of this tiny loud feral kid that ate mud and screamed has taken away all of Quackity’s noise, and so he sits in silence.

Quackity is silent.

* * *

Sam failed.

He had built the prison himself, he had built it to ensure that something like this _wouldn’t happen,_ and now something has happened and he’ll never get to program Sam Nook to sing happy birthday or the KK Slider song that the boy was so fond of, he’ll never get to teach Tommy how to do redstone without getting stuck under pistons every five seconds, he’ll never get to be the father that Philza wasn’t, because Tommy is _gone._

He should have known. He should have known the second that Tommy’s cries grew hysteric, the second that the cameras cut out, that something was wrong.

But he didn’t, and so all he had done was fiddle with the redstone programming frantically, growing more panicked the more Tommy screamed until suddenly there was silence.

The cameras flickered back on, and he was met with a red tint over the lens and the view of a bloodstained corpse slumped on the ground, eyes looking up at him with a final beg. Dream standing over him with a smile on his face. Then, the middle of the three screens went black. A glowing smile shining up at him mockingly.

Sam had failed to protect, the one thing he was supposed to do. Sam has failed.

* * *

Jack didn’t think he would miss the kid.

Oh, how wrong he was.

It’s hard to pinpoint what he’s feeling- there’s some kind of victory, sure, but he didn’t want the kid straight up dead or anything.

There’s probably regret there- he had tried so hard to get Tommy out of the hotel, and for what? Now sure, he has the hotel, but that doesn’t mean _anything_ anymore _._

Killing Tommy himself would have been more fulfilling, because Tommy would have gotten a noble death. He would have fought until the very end, sword in hand, and given a warrior’s burial. His corpse wouldn’t be rotting in a cell that had been made partly for him but only ever housed the creator, clothes stained red with the blood that spattered the floor and eyes unseeing from where they stared up into the security camera.

Jack had wanted to be listened to, so he tried to make Tommy listen to him.

Now Tommy is gone, and Jack goes unnoticed again.

* * *

Everyone is shaken up.

George won’t believe that Dream would do something like that, staunchly defending him and begging to visit him until the one day he’s let in, staring at the small mangled body in horror as Dream details exactly what he did to Tommy. George won’t trust for a while, gruesome images burned into his goggles as he imagines how people suffered when he turned a blind eye to Dream.

Sapnap is angry, and fire flickers in his eyes, taking it out on unexplored forests that would now never be explored and mobs that stalk the night. He has to keep his flame going so it doesn’t flicker out.

Niki is tired of the endless bloodshed, and she leaves in the night, a note in the back room of her bakery that only her closest friends can get into detailing where she is- she had set up a home in the ocean that she had code worded her ‘mermaid lagoon’.

Fundy only stays a while longer before joining her in solitude, consoling each other for how much they have both lost.

Eret finds Niki and Fundy barely surviving in the oceans, being attacked by hordes of drowned, and takes them in, swearing that they won’t let anyone else die. It’s the least they can do after lying and betraying and _watching,_ only taking action when it benefited them.

Karl contemplates whether he could have changed this, whether he could have gone back in time and helped, or even if he could have gone back to kill Tommy himself. Because the kid lost all three of his lives to the same person, and Karl knows a little about what repetitive deaths can do to you.

The Eggpire celebrates, the souls of the Infected crying out in protest when the Infected start to plot.

Purpled continues to run his business, giving a short nod to Tommy’s death and pushing down the worry that comes with it.

* * *

They didn’t think they would, but when Tommy’s death message flickers across everyone’s communicators, the world grieves.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading!! im trying out a new writing style, its called ro is fucking pretentious but in a not all bad way
> 
> hhfuck its late where i am but please consider leaving a kudos/comment!! they make the hap.py chemicals do a lil gay dance in my head
> 
> also!! rebranding alert uh my acc name is going from jaz-writes-stuff to princet-ro so do Not be Alarmed if u see my fics under that name!!
> 
> its my designated self promo time so aaa please consider visiting me at @princetalifabulous me on tumblr!! i scream.abt stuff <3


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